


Wouldn't it be nice to live together

by darkrosaleen



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Intercrural Sex, M/M, Pining, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 01:54:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13916883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkrosaleen/pseuds/darkrosaleen
Summary: Andy is the best boyfriend Pete doesn't have.For no_tags prompt #10, Pete Wentz/Andy Hurley, friends to lovers.





	Wouldn't it be nice to live together

Andy had always loved watching Pete sleep. He felt kind of creepy about it, but there was something soft and vulnerable about Pete in that state, something that made Andy's chest clench a little. It made his dick clench a little too, but Andy was good at ignoring that part.

They were on another endlessly flat stretch of highway, and Pete was a heavy lump on Andy's shoulder, breathing slowly against his bare arm. He smelled like days-old sweat and hair product. Andy's stomach fluttered in a way that was usually reserved for girls in sundresses.

Andy felt a subtle twitch go through Pete, and then his breathing picked up, out of deep sleep but not quite awake yet. Andy carefully freed his arm and wrapped it around Pete's back, settling into a more comfortable position.

Pete murmured softly against Andy's shoulder, the spot between his eyebrows furrowing with tension. Andy rubbed his palm up and down Pete's spine. "We're two hours from St. Louis. Go back to sleep."

Pete laughed, a warm huff of air on Andy's skin. "I'll sleep when I want to."

"Let me sleep, then." He probably wouldn't, not with Pete pressed so close, but he had to give it his best shot. Joe would expect him to drive at some point.

Pete wriggled closer, smooshing his face into Andy's chest and hugging his ribcage. "You're a really bony teddy bear," he grumbled.

By some miracle, Pete dropped off again quickly. Andy loved the way Pete breathed in his sleep, how soft and easy it was compared to his usual anxious-manic-too-fast pace.

Andy didn't fall asleep again, but he watched the fields pass outside the window, running his fingers slowly through Pete's hair.

-

One side effect of Pete's current med cocktail was that it sometimes took him a really long time to get off. 

This wasn't new information—Pete had no filter with brain stuff, and he'd complained about it to Andy long before Andy was in a position to actually witness it. But then touring happened, and the van happened, and there was protocol in place. You ignored any sounds that came from the back row, put on your headphones, and kept up the flimsy pretense of privacy. 

But Pete could jerk off for a really, really long time without coming. Andy, who was already way too fixated on Pete's breathing patterns, could hear the exact moment when his heavy gasps got a little too fast, when a needy whine crept into his breathing. Pete was suffering, and the worst part was how hard Andy got over it.

The rustling noises suddenly stopped. Andy's seat jolted as Pete smacked his forehead against it. His hair was sticking up behind the seat in crazy black tufts, like he'd been pulling on it. Heat and shame curled in Andy's stomach. 

Pete sniffed wetly. The van code said not to interact, but Pete wasn't the private type, and he liked physical comfort in moments of distress. Andy rested his hand neutrally on the back of the seat, and Pete leaned forward to rub his cheek against it. "Got any crazy tantric sex tips?" Pete's voice sounded as ragged as it did when he wasn't sleeping.

"Play with your piercings?" Andy wasn't going to be able to hide his erection, but he figured it went with the territory. "I don't know, just experiment with stuff. Try pain if you're into that. The human body has a ton of erogenous zones, but we get so hung up on dicks."

Pete chuckled. "I knew you were some kind of sex guru. It's always the quiet ones." He rubbed his sweaty hair against Andy's hand. "I know this is weird because I'm still hard, but can I come up? I kind of just want to go to sleep."

Andy's stomach clenched. "Yeah, of course. Pot, kettle."

Pete lifted his head enough to peer over the seat, then giggled. "All that heavy breathing doing it for you? We can swap if you want."

Andy felt a flush creeping up his neck. "Don't like doing it in the van." The moment had tipped over from guilty arousal to just guilt. 

Pete slowly gathered all his shit and slumped into the seat next to Andy. Even worn out like this, there was tension bristling through Pete, like a spark waiting to catch fire. 

They stretched out across the bench, with Pete laying on top. Pete was oppressively heavy and hot for such a small guy. Andy counted backwards from a thousand until he was less likely to drill a hole through Pete's hip. After a while, the heat and pressure was kind of comforting, like a too thick comforter in the middle of winter.

"You should stop beating yourself up over it," Andy whispered, unsure if Pete was dozing yet. "If you freak yourself out about it, you'll never get there. You're not broken, and it'll pass."

He felt Pete laugh against his chest. "You're the best boyfriend ever." 

Hearing those words in Pete's voice kind of made Andy feel sick.

-

They were at a giant supermarket in New Jersey, and Pete's hoodie and indoor sunglasses were fooling no one. Andy jumped a little whenever a nearby customer spoke, but no one had recognized them yet. 

Either shameless or oblivious, Pete pulled a pack of candy heart stickers out of his pocket and stuck one on Andy's t-shirt. "Sweet cheeks," he said with a grin. "Because of your juicy buns."

Andy snorted. "You've got me mixed up with…someone." It felt a little mean to say Patrick, even though he wasn't there. 

"Never," Pete said with a wink, reaching down to grope Andy's ass. Andy scanned the aisle in a panic, but the only person in eyeshot was a ninety-year-old woman. "Yours are the only buns for me."

The problem was that Pete did this to every guy he knew. He'd been doing it as long as Andy could remember, ever since Pete learned that he could win some fights better with a kiss than a punch. Patrick got the worst of it on camera, but Pete had propositioned every man currently working in the music industry. It was impossible to take seriously. 

That didn't stop Andy's stomach from flipping when Pete took his hand in the soup aisle, swinging it back and forth. "Is Campbell's tomato soup vegan? I know you don't eat grilled cheese, but we could get some of that vegan sliced stuff."

Andy suppressed a shudder and grabbed two cans of organic bean chili. "Vegan cheese is an abomination. Vegetables are good. So is protein."

Pete laughed. "You're such a mom, Jesus." He reached into the basket and pulled out the chili, making a face. "We can't feed this to the kids, it'll give Joey and Ricky gas."

For some reason, that was the funniest thing Andy had ever heard. The ensuing giggle fit finally blew their cover, and a squeal alerted them to the presence of three teenage girls, all excited to the point of tears. Pete stood up straight and took his sunglasses off, giving the girls a shy smile. 

Andy signed autographs for all three girls, and the two additional ones who came over to investigate, but Pete was a lot more interesting to talk to. Andy snuck away with the basket, using the uninterrupted time to buy some more fresh vegetables to leave rotting in the bus fridge. He got plenty of carrots, because he knew that Pete liked to munch on them and Andy had genuine worries about nutritional deficiencies. Shit, he was a mom.

Andy waited outside until Pete reappeared, putting on his sunglasses and shoving a plastic bag in Andy's hand. "I got some frozen veggies and teriyaki sauce, do you think we can make stir fry? I know you're sick of PB&J."

He'd also gotten a carton of dairy-free chocolate sorbet, the nice expensive stuff. "You're a good husband," Andy said, bumping his shoulder against Pete's. "If you cook tonight, I'll blow you once the kids are in bed." Two could play this game.

Pete laughed, and that was less painful than the way Pete's whole face lit up like sunshine. "I knew there was a reason I married you." He kept bumping shoulders with Andy as they walked, their arms warm in the summer heat. 

-

Pete was in one of those moods where he was spending every other night in Patrick's bunk. Patrick and Pete had some weird, special best friend mind meld thing, and Andy didn't want to interfere. 

It didn't stop him from sitting up in the lounge with Joe yet again, watching TV late into the night because he didn't want to be alone. "Should we bunk up together to make them jealous?" Joe asked. 

Andy glared holes in the television. "Jealousy has no place in a healthy friendship."

Joe laughed. "Friendship, right. If my dude was shacking up with his best friend every night, I'd be jealous." The back of Andy's neck went hot.

Andy didn't end up bunking with Joe, but they did play footsie under the couch blanket while watching Golden Girls. It eased the loneliness in Andy's chest, at least until he got back to his bunk and shut the lights off. 

Andy woke up to someone crawling into his bed. Pete was trembling all over, and Andy's heart jumped into his throat. "Panic attack?"

"Nightmare." Pete wedged himself between Andy and the wall, curling his knees up to his chest. "I dreamed the bus crashed. Then I woke up and remembered we haven't done this in fucking forever, and I couldn't stop thinking, what if we all died and I never got the chance to?" He took a deep shuddering breath, like he was shaking off the darkness in his head. "I missed you, fuck."

Andy couldn't wrap around Pete with his knees in the way, but he could reach out and tangle their fingers together. Pete squeezed back a little too hard.

"And if a double decker bus crashes into us, to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die." Pete wasn't any better of a singer at low volume, but there was something sweet about the raspy softness of it. 

"You and your car crashes," Andy said. "No Smiths before bed. It's too depressing."

Pete chuckled. He shuffled in so that he could rest his forehead against Andy's. "I missed this. You aren't jealous of Patrick, are you?"

Andy felt himself blush. "Pete, most of my partners have other partners. I can't get mad at my friends for having other friends."

He could just see Pete smiling in the dark. "That's too bad. I like it when boys fight over me."

Andy inhaled sharply. Pete had stopped shaking, but there was still tension in his body, squeezing Andy's hand like a lifeline.

Without warning, Pete leaned forward and pressed a quick peck to Andy's lips. "Goodnight," Pete said, shuffling down so he could tuck his head under Andy's chin. There had been a fraction of a millisecond of mouth-to-mouth contact, but Andy's lips tingled with the heat of Pete's. 

"Sleep well," Andy murmured, curling around Pete's delicate frame. It was a long time before the gentle rise and fall of Pete's ribs lulled him to sleep again.

-

They must have held hands all night, because Andy was still clutching Pete's when he woke up. He opened his eyes to see big dark ones staring back, studying him with unusual quiet.

Andy stretched and felt his back pop. "Watching me sleep?"

Pete smiled. "Pot and kettle, man." He got that quiet look again. "Hey. Don't punch me, okay?"

Before Andy could react, Pete leaned forward and kissed him. It wasn't quick and chaste like the night before. This kiss was slow, liquid heat, melting into each other like candle wax. 

Andy dragged his head back. "Not that I'm complaining, but what brought that on?"

Pete grinned, eyes bright. "Last night got me thinking. Patrick's my best friend, and you're my—you're something else. Not better or worse, just different. Sleeping with you means something different."

Andy had to kiss him again. He kept kissing Pete until his mouth was sore, rocking slowly against each other with unhurried heat. Andy was hard, but it didn't feel urgent, just a low hum that kicked his heart up a little.

Pete eventually broke for air, resting his forehead against Andy's. "Next time I sleep past you, you should wake me up with a blowjob."

Andy shivered. He thought about playing with that soft, gentle Pete until his breathing got fast and hungry, until restless pleasure flickered over his sleeping face. "Definitely. But I could also blow you right now."

Pete rolled onto his back with Andy on top. "Make love to me. Between my thighs. I want the Andy Hurley boyfriend experience."

Labels were square, and love didn't need to be put in boxes, but Andy felt like his heart was going to flutter right out of his chest. "You've got it," he said, reaching up to touch Pete's fragile collarbones. "You've always had it. If you want it."

Pete slicked his inner thighs with body lotion and laid down on his stomach. He looked gorgeous stretched out in Andy's bunk, skin and ink over compact muscles, his thighs full and tense as he squeezed them together. 

Pete tended to go hard with everything, but he could be soft when he wanted to. The hot place between his thighs was soft, and the noises Pete buried in the pillow were soft. As soon as Andy pulled out, Pete was grinding desperately against the mattress, coming with Andy's open mouth on his neck. 

The bunk was disgusting, but none of Andy's limbs were working. He let himself slump onto Pete's back, ignoring his whining. "Five minutes, then I'll make you breakfast."

He could just see Pete's grin. "You're the best boyfriend." This time, Andy grinned back.


End file.
